d have deserved it, I knew, but
I felt as if I should die under the ordeal. I sat preternaturally still,
and watched, as if mesmerized, the approach of the musician. He spoke
again to the young man whom I had seen before, and they both laughed.
Perhaps he had confided the whole story to him, and was telling him to
observe what he was going to do. Then Herr Courvoisier tapped the young
man on the shoulder and laughed again, and then he came on. He was not
looking at me; he came up to the boarding, leaned his elbow upon it, and
said to Eustace Vincent:

"Good-evening: _wie geht's Ihnen?_"

Vincent held out his hand. "Very well, thanks. And you? I haven't seen
you lately."

"Then you haven't been at the theater lately," he laughed. He never
testified to me by word or look that he had ever seen me before. At last
I got to understand as his eyes repeatedly fell upon me without the
slightest sign of recognition, that he did not intend to claim my
acquaintance. I do not know whether I was most wretched or most relieved
at the discovery. It spared me a great deal of embarrassment; it filled
me, too, with inward shame beyond all description. And then, too, I
was dismayed to find how totally I had mistaken the position of the
musician. Vincent was talking eagerly to him. They had moved a little
nearer the other end of the orchestra. The young man, Helfen, had come
up, others had joined them. I, meanwhile, sat still--heard every tone of
his voice, and took in every gesture of his head or his hand, and I felt
as I trust never to feel again--and yet I lived in some such feeling as
that for what at least seemed to me a long time. What was the feeling
that clutched me--held me fast--seemed to burn me? And what was that I
heard? Vincent speaking:

"Last Thursday week, Courvoisier--why didn't you come? We were waiting
for you?"

"I missed the train."

Until now he had been speaking German, but he said this distinctly in
English and I heard every word.

"Missed the train?" cried Vincent in his cracked voice.

"Nonsense, man! Helfen, here, and Alekotte were in time and they had
been at the probe as much as you."

"I was detained in Koeln and couldn't get back till evening," said he.
"Come along, Friedel; there's the call-bell."

I raised my eyes--met his. I do not know what expression was in mine.
His never wavered, though he looked at me long and steadily--no glance
of recognition--no sign still. I would have risked the asto